Superior Saturday(54)

EIGHTEEN





ARTHUR DIDN’T HAVE time to think or duck. He didn’t need to. Without any active thought on his part, he leaned aside and caught the bolt as it passed, right in the middle of the shaft. The Nothing bottle on the end remained unbroken.

Arthur reversed the bolt to use it as a hand weapon and advanced upon Dartbristle, who was hastily cranking his crossbow to ready it for another bolt.

‘The strictest orders,’ panted the Rat. ‘Shoot anyone who might interfere. I don’t want to shoot you, but I must!’

Arthur stopped. Something – several somethings – were coming out of the steam clouds. Six Ratcatcher Automatons, their long feelers testing the way ahead as they advanced down the quay.

Dartbristle saw the expression on Arthur’s face and turned around, just as the closest Ratcatcher charged. The Rat threw his crossbow aside, picked up the net, and hurled it into the water. He tried to draw his long knife, but throwing the net had taken all the time he had. The Ratcatcher’s left claw caught him around the neck and snapped closed. Another automaton came up and wound its razor-edged feelers all around him and began to squeeze.

This was a mistake. Dartbristle was almost certainly already dead anyway, but the squeezing broke the Nothing bottles that were in their special wooden case on his back. Nothing exploded out, and the Ratcatchers’ feelers instantly dissolved. The automatons hummed and squealed in alarm as the Nothing ran like quicksilver over their claws and out along their bodies, dissolving everything it touched.

In a few seconds, no trace remained of either Dartbristle or the two Ratcatcher Automatons. The Nothing coalesced back into a puddle of darkness and began to sink into the bulwark bedrock, cutting a deep shaft through the reinforced House material.

Arthur eyed the remaining four automatons and readied himself for their attack. But they didn’t charge. They waved their feelers around and their red central eye things glowed, and then the four of them turned around and disappeared back into the warm fog.

‘Recognised you weren’t a Rat,’ said the Will. It had two wings now, and was hopping along the surface of the pool, albeit without having any claws or a tail. ‘Which is lucky. I believe they have a bit of a problem with recognising their legitimate prey.’

‘Poor Dartbristle,’ said Arthur. ‘He didn’t want to shoot me, or at least not me in particular. What did he throw into the pool?’

‘I shall take a look,’ said the Will. It scuttled across the surface and grabbed the floating net in its beak to drag it back to Arthur, who sat back down on the edge of the pool and let his feet dangle in the water. His boots had come off after all, in his rapid descent, and his coveralls were ripped to shreds below the knees and elbows. His belt was still on, fortunately, and Arthur tapped the pouch to confirm that the bag with the Key, the Mariner’s medal and Elephant was still there.

‘These are things of sorcery,’ said the Will as it dropped the net near Arthur. ‘I do not know what they are for.’

Arthur picked up the net. There were three large round glass floats inside. One red, one blue and one green. They looked like the same kind of glass that Simultaneous Bottles were made from.

‘He threw these into the water, even though it meant he didn’t have time to draw his weapon,’ said Arthur. ‘It was that important.’

‘Then we should put them back in the water,’ said the Will. ‘To respect his dying wish.’

‘What?’ asked Arthur. This wasn’t the kind of behaviour he was used to from any part of the Will.

‘We should put them back in,’ the Will repeated. ‘As a matter of respect. Ah, the text for one of my tail feathers has just dropped in. Back in a moment.’

It left Arthur holding the net and scudded off toward the waterfall that issued from the downpipe.

Arthur lifted the red float and looked at it. It didn’t seem particularly sorcerous.

Arthur held the floats for a minute, thinking about something his mother had once said when she was explaining something to his sister Michaeli and didn’t know he was listening. There is never one absolutely right thing to do. All you can do is honour what you believe, accept the consequences of your own actions, and make the best out of whatever happens.

‘I bet I’m going to regret this,’ he said aloud, and dropped the floats back into the water. They bobbed around his feet and then slowly began to drift out, so slowly that he couldn’t be sure if they were actually propelling themselves or if there was some kind of current.

Arthur watched the floats bob away and tried to plan what he was going to do next. But he still hurt all over – apart from the physical pain, he felt a great load of guilt.